The Tank
by LadyBonBon
Summary: It was just a competition. The best of the best assigned to work and compete for the honor of working on a project that would change everything. It was supposedly a friendly competition...there was nothing friendly about it. SE/OC
1. Chapter 1

_The Tank: Prologue_

_January 23: 1900 hours_

_Destination: Unknown_

The large creature thrashed about in the spacious enclosure that was its prison. It swam swiftly and without mercy to and fro throughout the large water box, its movements, if one could understand the movements of a shark, were full of anger. Yet, no one could know the actions and movements of a shark such as this one. Many speculated, but none knew for certain. Of course there were those that claimed that these animals knew nothing but bloodlust.

Sharks could not get angry, these men reasoned. They could not be sad or depressed. They were _fish_; animals that had no concept of pain, love, life, only death. They had only instinct to thrive on.

The men gathered around and watched as the large beast of the sea swam ever forward with angry like lunges at the glass. These men, these _scientist_, speculated that it had no perception of the glass. That this thing could not conceive a barrier; he was only seeing what was on the other side of the barrier.

If the shark was to be asked, the thought was never brought up for these men were _scientist_, it would probably have only one reason behind its motives. Whether that reason was to be free or to feed on the men's bodies is a mystery.

* * *

"_Oh the shark has pretty teeth, dear_

_And he show's them pearly white._

_Just as jack-knife has Macheath_

_And he keeps it out of sight…"—Bertolt Brecht_

* * *

_February 15: 10:35 a.m._

_Destination: Gulf Enclosures_

Standing over the edge of an aquatic pool, she watched as the orcas circled each other in the blue pool. Yin and Yang were perhaps her favorites (besides Polo, the enclosure's only walrus, who loved to give her big, wet kisses). She had trained them personally once they had arrived from an aquarium in Detroit and had become a big hit with the tourists and various marine biologists that came to study the animals. Yin and Yang were twin males and nearly identical in pattern; the only way to tell them apart, aside from their personalities, was that Yin had a small scar near his dorsal fin from a scruff he had with one of the other male orcas upon being brought into their herd. Ever since, the two were kept separate from the others for fear of losing them in a scuffle over dominance.

Christina glanced at her watch; only two more hours until the next visitor's tour. She looked around at the empty stadium that would soon be packed with tourists within the hour and remembered when she had used to become nervous talking about Yin and Yang and having them do tricks in front of so many people. Not long after her first few showings, one of the veterans, an older woman who worked with the main herd of orca and Christina's mentor, Kathleen, had explained to her that they were here to see the animals not the people and for her to get over herself.

She was pulled away from her thoughts when Yang splashed her with his tail fin and let out a squeal. Christina giggled softly at the act.

"Very funny," She said while splashing him back playfully. Yin, not one to be left out, swam up towards her quickly and splashed her as well. She chuckled again and leaned forward on the pool wall. A splash fight ensued leaving her clothes more than wet.

"Ms. Dranatelle! Ms. Dranatelle!" Christina turned towards the stadium doors in time to see the clean up boy, David. His arms flailed about wildly as he ran towards her with an envelope clutched tightly in his grip. She looked at him with slight exasperation. He was an awkward young man who seemed to clutch Christina at the hip.

"Yes, David." She called as he rushed forward towards her even more.

All too suddenly he slipped on the wet floor and fell face forward in front of her. She sighed and bent down towards the ground to be on eye level with him. He raised his head slightly and smiled before handing her a crisp, white envelope addressed with her name.

"This came for you; a young man dropped it off. He was dressed in some army getup." She took the envelope from David and stood. Quickly she opened it and pulled out a typed up letter that was brandished with an insignia that she couldn't quite place. Stapled to it was a form that had various blanks and questions. She returned back to the letter and skimmed over the contents briefly, jumping over legal jargon and the like until she got the gist of what was being asked.

It was an application form. _"All respectable marine biologists, scientists, and animal trainers in their fields of expertise are being propositioned for the _honor_ and privilege to work alongside the best military operation this country has to offer. If you find yourself interested in applying for such a position, please fill out the form stapled to this letter and mail it back to—."_

She rolled her eyes and then scanned the application form. At the beginning there was the usual: name, date of birth, applicant's career position, etc. etc. Christina hummed to herself before eyeing David. The young man always seemed to be hovering around her, and now he was peering at her trying to get a look at the letter and its contents. She huffed softly at him.

"David, when does the next showing begin?" She asked with a dark eyebrow raised and he grinned sheepishly.

"'Bout two hours," he replied.

"That's right. So you better get back to mopping the hallways before Kenton sees you moseying around and not doing your job. You'll get us both fired if you don't get back to work."

David laughed and nodded before running off to finish mopping the hallways before the tourists flocked in. Christina sighed and set the letter and application form in her jacket pocket before going to the storage room to change into her black wet suit. She'd look over the application again later. Right now she wanted to go over the routine with Yin and Yang and then rest before the show started.

The showing had been a success. Yin and Yang had become overly boisterous and entertained the crowd with tricks while Christina played the part as educator for the crowd and fish thrower for every trick well executed by the two twin orcas.

She had studied marine biology at LSU before graduating with a bachelor's and then, after a year of working at the enclosure and marine biology study facility, went back to receive her master's. Christina's specialty had been sharks, as they interested her the most when growing up and entering college, but the only sharks in the enclosure were nurse sharks and one or two tiger sharks; they had already had coordinators when she arrived, so she had settled with training under Kathleen with the orcas. It had not been something she regretted, either.

Orcas, also known as killer whales and the wolves of the sea, were a pleasure to work with as well as a danger. Every day that she placed on her wet suit and climbed into their pin was a day she could lose her life to their rough housing. Not that they would _try_ to kill her, but these creatures were large _and_ they weren't domestic animals. She knew they could kill her if they wanted to. It had used to fill her with dread, it was not the same as swimming with nurse sharks, but Kathleen had told her that if Christina was going to be a pussy about it, then she was better off working with Nathaniel with his penguins.

She had gotten over her fear soon afterwards.

Christina sat behind her desk thumbing through paperwork and answering e-mails. The letter lay on her desk shuffled under a few pens and she looked at it suspiciously, as if waiting for it to jump up and latch a hold of her throat. It did not. She pulled apart the application form and began to fill it out; she didn't believe she would be accepted, she didn't have the years or experience that Kathleen had, but the least she could do was send it back with the form filled out. She wondered if Kathleen had gotten one and made a mental note to ask her once the day was over.

The application was long and tedious, requiring past job experiences, family history, political views (and she had actually gaped at that), and even groups or movements that she was tied to—not that she _was_ tied to any but still. After filling all of it out, which took over an hour, she folded the application form up and placed it within an envelope to which she placed the return address upon it.

The letter had stated that _if_ she was chosen, she would be required to vacate her residence for a period of two weeks where she would undergo a performance trial and then be considered for the position. _If_ chosen, she would then have to stay a whole year to work on a special project that had yet to be disclosed.

Christina sighed while running a hand through her drying hair. Ms. Bitters would probably be upset at her leaving if she was chosen, which was unlikely, and her family would probably pitch a bit of a fit. She shrugged before placing the envelope in her outgoing mail pile.

* * *

_2 Weeks later:_

Christina stood in her wetsuit in front of the cheering crowd with a bucket of fish in one hand and a dead fish in the other. She waved the fish in the air and waited for one of the orca to surface. Yang shot forward and did a back flip for the crowd who cheered and screamed with excitement. She tossed the fish up in the air and watched as he surfaced quickly and caught the treat.

Yin, not to be left out, bounced a ball on the end of his nose and then tossed it to the crowd. A group of children on a field trip caught the ball and, at her instruction, tossed the ball back which was caught by Yin and tossed about in the air. Christina tossed a fish to him and watched as he ate it happily.

She had forgotten about the letter and the application form after three days of having received it. Kathleen, upon asking her, had said that she also had been sent a letter and an application which she had promptly thrown away saying she had no use to go anywhere else; she was happy here.

Christina understood. Kathleen had been working at the enclosure for a good twenty-two years now. She was close to retirement; another job was the last thing she wanted. But the older woman had encouraged Christina to broaden her horizons and to search out jobs that would test her. Christina had expressed that she didn't think she would be picked because of her lack of experience and less than adequate references, Kenton didn't like her too much. Kathleen had waved her words away as if they were a mere bug buzzing about her face and said she didn't want to hear anymore. Now, two weeks later, the letter and the job offer were gone from her mind. She focused on pleasing the crowd and throwing the dead fish to her two pals as they did their routine flawlessly.

After the crowd had dispersed and Yin and Yang were moved to their larger enclosure, Christina went back to her office after stripping out of her wet suit and into her work clothes. She slouched in her swivel chair and tried to remain awake. That had been the fourth performance and going over all the facts over and over again made her mind go numb. She twisted the hair around a few times and closed her eyes to keep from dizzying herself.

After a few turns, her office phone began to ring. She quickly stopped the chair and answered.

"Gulf Enclosures, this is Christina Dranatelle speaking." She cradled the phone on her shoulder while she began to sift through paperwork that she been putting off for some time. The man on the other line seemed to be cut off by static as he spoke. "Excuse me? Sir?"

_"Christina Dranatelle?"_

She rolled her eyes, "Yes, sir. This is she."

The man was fading in and out, and Christina could barely make out his words. _"Ajkafjhd application form made it to aksdjfirh require you to be at New Orleans airport tomorrow morning at eight thirty. Special private flight ahdklhfu cooperation, thank you."_

"Excuse me? Sir? Sir!" But, the man had hung up leaving Christina to sit and gape at the audacity. "Asshole. At least give me a few days!" In a fit of frustration, she tossed the phone across her office and watched as it bounced off the door and fall to the floor with a crack going down the side of it.

She checked her office clock which read 2:35; she'd have to leave now. That is, if she still _wanted _to participate. Christina thought of the experience she could acquire from working with a government facility. It was a pleasing thought. Kenton popped into her mind as well, and she realized that there would be no turning in of a two week notice. He'd probably be pissed, and Ms. Bitters, since the decision would be at last minute, would most likely have a panic attack. Frank would be the most supportive of the bunch…

Christina glanced at the phone again and pursed her lips in thought. Her long nails drummed along the desk in a steady rhythm. After a few moments she picked up her purse, strapped on her heels, and made her way to Kenton's office.

Along the way she was stopped by David who was meandering about with his hands in his pockets. When he saw her he brightened up and shot her a smile. She returned it awkwardly and was about to pass him when he stopped her.

"What, David?" She asked.

"Kenton's lookin' for you." Well, this was going to be interesting. Kenton never sought her out unless he was angry at her. In fact, he just about avoided her at all costs.

"You know what he wants?" To this David shrugged and she let out a huff of annoyance. Of course he wouldn't know. She nodded in thanks and stalked past him towards Kenton's office where she knew he'd be in a mood. _It will only make things easier._

She knocked on his office door and then entered when he beckoned her in with a gruff voice. Kenton was a middle aged, scrawny man who was balding at the back if his head. He tried to cover this over with a hat when welcoming visitors and honored scientist and whatnot.

Kenton looked up at her with his face filled with disdain and Christina braced for the onslaught.

"Ms. Dranatelle, where were you this morning?" His voiced oozed from his mouth and dripped like poison from his thin lips.

"I was with Kathleen and the herd, Mr. Kenton." He frowned and narrowed his eyes at her. Christina had to remind herself that she was a professional and that hitting him was _not_ the act of a professional.

"You were supposed to be at stadium two performing with the seals!" He shouted, standing up from his chair so as to try to tower over her. Christina, when she wasn't performing with the orcas, helped Rodger with his seals. She mainly gave them fish and had them bounce balls about on their noses while the children, and adults, laughed and clapped for them all. It wasn't really a hard job to accomplish.

"I let Danielle do it, sir. She's been practicing." Danielle was the new girl, straight from college with only a bachelor's and a ferocious ambition. Christina had liked the girl from the start. This only served to make him even more upset. Blood travelled up his neck and into his face causing it to turn a bright pink color.

"You don't have the authority to decide things like that on your own. You do not run this facility; I do!" Kenton's blue eyes blazed as they locked with her dark ones. "You're fortunate I don't fire you right now for this."

"Mr. Kenton," She began in a strained professional voice. "I've been offered a job. I apologize for not having a two weeks' notice, and I will forego all payment for those two weeks."

Kenton could only stare with wide eyes, "Excuse me?" He demanded while his face turned ever redder. Christina smiled tightly.

"I quit, idiot." She then, in a most unprofessional way that would have made Ms. Bitters' heart drop, flipped him off and then left his office with him stuttering behind her.

David was hanging around near the entrance doors and watched as she walked with haste towards them. Her heels clicked with a defiance that matched the frown on her face.

"What'd Kenton want?" He asked.

Christina stopped at the doors and looked at David. "I told him I quit, David." His eyes went wide at this and his jaw dropped. "I've gotten an offer to work elsewhere, and I'm taking it."

"But-but…"

She rolled her eyes before heading to the employee parking lot with David rushing after her all the while stuttering about goodbyes. "Don't worry, David, I'll write." She unlocked her car doors. "Please tell Kathleen that she'll have to take care of Yin and Yang and that I owe her one." She entered her car before David could say much else and slammed the door tight.

He watched her pull out from her faculty parking spot. She saw him and shot him a wave before driving off and heading home.

Upon arriving to her large home that was well off the beaten path, Christina was ambushed by Ms. Bitters.

"What on earth are you doing home so early?" The older woman placed a hand on her thick hip and cocked a graying eyebrow.

Katherine Baters had been watching over Christina for most of the younger woman's life. She had been hired by Christina's sickly mother to be sort of a caretaker for the young child while the mother tried to build up her strength and fight her weak body. Ms. Baters had been a very stern motherly figure in Christina's life, earning her the name Ms. Bitters to which her charge affectionately called her. Once Christina had left home at 18 with no intent on _ever_ coming back, Katherine was left to tend to Christina's siblings and cousins.

A year after she had left, Katherine had gotten a job request from her former charge to come and run her household while she worked. Christina had explained that the house was too large for her to take care of all by herself and that she needed someone to take care of it when she could not. The pay was promised to be good plus a room for herself and time off whenever she wished it. Ms. Baters had jumped at the opportunity, not that she _missed_ her charge, but because of the pay—of this she had reasoned.

"Ms. Bitters, so nice to see you so active for a woman of your age." Christina shot her a grin which the older woman returned with a hard frown and a waving of a wooden spoon, an obvious sign that she had been cooking.

"I asked you a question," she repeated sternly. The spoon waggled in the air threateningly, and Christina was brought back to the many times when her motherly figure had beaten the hell out of her with a spoon such as that.

"I quit."

"Excuse me!" The wooden spoon was now pointing at Christina's face while Katherine looked on at her with a shocked expression. The shock soon gave way to anger and she took that spoon and, with impeccable skill for a woman of her age, threw it at her charge's face leaving a bright red mark stinging across Christina's cheek.

"Ow! What the hell was that for?" Christina held a hand to her marked face.

"How are you going to pay the bills in this house if you quit your job? Did you even think this through? You stupid, stupid girl!"

"I got offered another job, you crazy old woman!" Katherine stared at her with her face blank before uttering an 'oh.' "Put you in a damn nursing home." Christina mumbled as she rubbed at her still red cheek.

"Well, where?" She placed her wrinkled hands on her hips and tried to make an imposing stance, but it was all for none. Christina wasn't five anymore and now towered over her once caretaker, much to her delight.

"Military offer." She shrugged and ran a hand through her hair. "Got the acceptance call today, late assholes. They want me to be at the New Orleans airport first thing tomorrow morning."

"You have to _leave?_"

"Yeah to some military base."

"You're really going to be leaving me alone in this house with that horrible man!"

Ah yes, Frank. About two years ago the house, as old as it was, had begun to fall apart. Shutters were sagging and falling off, door hinges were rusting and making it harder to close the door, shingles needed to be redone on the roof, and many more things that the two women just couldn't _do._ So, Christina had hired a handy man, Frank.

His real name was Francis Deboir. A born French man, Francis had moved to the states for a change of scenery and found himself working as a hired handyman. Christina had heard good things about him from a few friends and gave him a call. Before long, Francis was over every other day fixing something that broke or needed to be replaced; this was much to Ms. Bitters' displeasure for the man teased her in both French and English. It got to the point that Christina offered him a room and asked if he wanted to be their handyman. Francis had agreed, and from that point on continued to work on the house all the while annoying Ms. Bitters until she was blue in the face.

"Listen, Ms. Bitters, I don't care what you do. Just play nice with Frank," Katherine cringed at the sound of his name, "and I'll call you later with the details. I probably won't even make it passed the examination. Be home before you know it, and I'll send you money for the house and food and such." The old woman nodded reluctantly.

"Well, you better tell Frank before he bugs the bejeesus out of me about where you are and what you're doing!" Christina nodded and let out a laugh before hugging the older woman tightly. "Now don't you start getting all sentimental on me! Just, go on! Go tell that man, and then go get packed!"

Christina laughed again and made her way outside where she knew Frank would be tending to their broken fence.

* * *

_A/N: Does this seem better? I thought it sounded a whoooole lot better and much more probable than the other one. __~LadyB_


	2. Chapter 2

_**The Tank**_

It was odd standing in line with their bags clutched tightly in their grasps; what was even odder was the fact that Christina was aware that she was dreadfully over dressed. A quick glance around at the other applicants had shown her that white t-shirts and army pants or black sweats were the outfit of choice for making first impressions. Christina felt a little out of place and silently berated Ms. Bitters—the vile woman that she was—for packing her a pant suit and threatening her if she didn't wear it for the first meeting. Who wore pant suits anymore? No one. No one but old buisness women that still had the shoulder padding in the suit jacket.

A young man—Christina supposed he was young compared to the various older biological scientists and marine specialists that were in line with her—began going down the line and ticking each applicant's name off on a checklist. He was a nerdy looking kind of young man with large rimmed black glasses, a traditional white lab coat with the standard two pens in the breast pocket, and a mop of brown mousy hair on top of his head. But, in contradiction to his geeky appearance, he walked down the line of imposing scientist and biologists with an air of confidence and strength. It gave the appearance that, yes he had been given a swirley before, but that was a long time ago.

"And you?" He asked once he stood in front of Christina. He was a bit shorter than her, but this still did not deter him from looking down his nose at her. "You are?" His voice was a little high and had a bit of a nasal tone to it. She tried not to laugh because she knew it was impolite to do so.

Gaining her composure quickly she said, "Christina Dranatelle." The geeky young man nodded and checked her name off of the list before moving to the next person beside her.

Christina had gotten on her flight and was transferred to D.C where, there, she stayed the night in a terrible excuse for a hotel (all paid for by the American government) and then caught another flight with the others that now stood beside her in line on a private airplane where they then flew her to an undisclosed location right smack dab in the middle of a desert. They were all ushered underground via a metal platform and were then placed in a long row where the geeky man then greeted him. He had told them his name—well it wasn't quite his name, more like a codename (and how nerdy was that? As if they were all ten years old again and in some super secret special club that no one else could be a part of)—but Christina couldn't quite remember it at the moment. It started with a D. She wondered if she would get a codename but then decided that it was better she didn't have one. What name would do her justice? None.

In front of them were various soldiers who stood at attention, their eyes never moving from an imaginary spot just above her head. Despite her better judgment, and against the higher morals of Ms. Bitters who would have had a heart attack, Christina made faces at them. Crossing her eyes and twisting her mouth in an odd looking position to see if this would move the soldiers' eyes from the spot above her head to her now awkward looking face. It didn't. They remained still and attentive to the nothingness above her head. She wondered, as a random passing thought, what their codenames were. Names flittered across her brain, most of them ridiculous.

"Now that everyone has been checked off, I'll now begin to explain what will be happening during the duration of your stay here." Geeky, as she had begun to acknowledge him as, said aloud with his nasally high pitched voice. He pushed his glasses up as they had slipped ever so slightly down the bridge of his nose. "You are not going to begin the project right away, in fact, there are too many of you." He gave a cocky smile and Christina had the sudden urge to give him a swirly or an Atomic Melvin. "We'll begin with a series of trials in which you will all partake in. These trials will weed out the unwanted and leave only the desirables."

A man not too far down from Christina spoke up, "and what will these trials consist of? Biological knowledge, of course, but field trials or written?" Christina leaned outward a bit to get a look at an older looking gentleman who, and it came as a great surprise to her, was actually in a suit. He leaned on his right side and as she leaned out even more she could see that he was leaning on a cane.

Geeky frowned at the question, "A bit of both." He seemed to get the old man's meaning, "If you can't keep up, we suggest you leave now."

The older man chuckled, a deep, baritone sound that contrasted greatly from Geeky's. "No, no, I can keep up. Was just a bit of curiosity from an old man." He held up his left hand as a metaphorical waving of the white flag.

"The trials will not begin until two days from now," Geeky continued. "You will be grouped up and placed into rooms, but," and here he held up a thin finger, "these people are _not_ your group members. We cannot just give each of you a room of your own; most of our Joes here don't even have that luxury, so you will be grouped together in threes." He handed a list of names to two assistants that had been standing off to the side. Both were awkward in their movements as they hurried to stand at the front. "They will assign you rooms and give you the schedule of the day to day on goings of the base." He gave a small smile, "I'll see you all back here in two days." And then he made his leave.

There were more men than women. Christina had taken a good look around and found that there were just not enough women and soon they would be all depleted by the time the two bumbling assistants got to her. They had started at the very beginning of the line, not paying any attention to the actual list of names, and grabbed three men at random and through them together and then three women. A few more women were pulled and then that was it, no more women. Christina would be stuck with two men.

The assistants made it to her, pulled her off to the side (and she had to force herself from punching one of them because she wasn't a damn mule and didn't need someone to move her), and then realized their error. Christina crossed her arms and stared pointedly at them in silent reprimand. She even gave them the brow arch as if to say, 'see, now look what you did.'

They fumbled awkwardly, going through the list of names and scanning the line of people before the older gentleman from before spoke up. "I see we have an even number of men left." He smiled at Christina, "The young lady can room with me and it can be just the two of us if she's comfortable." While it would have sounded perverted coming from anyone else, especially a much younger man, the nearly white haired old man gave off that elderly grandpa image so well that it didn't sound perverted at all.

The young female assistant nodded and then turned hopeful eyes to Christina who rolled her own and nodded. Both assistants quickly moved the young man that was with grandpa placed him with another group, and beckoned her to take her things and go stand by the old man. She did so shrugging off their attempt at guiding her there.

"Thank you, Mr.—?" She held out her hand for him to shake.

He took it gently and gave it shake before letting go. "Peterson. Alexander Peterson." He gave her a smile and a flash of teeth.

"Christina Dranatelle, it's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Peterson."

His eyes crinkled, "that is a very unusual last name." He gave a bark of laughter that made Christina giggle. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure of hearing something like that before."

"Yes, well, it was my father's name after he changed it from Smith." She gave a soft chuckle, "he didn't like to be very common and so, right when he turned eighteen, he changed it to that ridiculous last name that I've been forced to bear."

"Yes, well, Smith is a very dull name anyway. One could see where he was coming from." He gave a snort, "and I suppose his parents weren't too thrilled?"

She rolled her eyes, "Oh, God, no. That's been the bane of their whole reputation. Having their oldest run off and change his last name on a spur of the moment decision." Christina wagged her finger at him, "It's certainly not the _done_ thing."

Peterson laughed loudly and shook his head, his white hair bouncing with the movement. He wiped at his eyes, calming himself. "And what do you do—I suppose you would rather me call you Christina, then?—Ms. Christina? What is your occupation?"

"I am—well, I was a marine biologist; that's what I went to school for. I ended up training orcas and seals and dolphins at a place called Gulf Enclosures in Louisiana." She sighed, "But I'm currently unemployed at the moment."

Peterson nodded in understanding, "ah, and I suppose you gave up the job to come here, then?" Christina nodded and Peterson gave her a little pat on the shoulder. "It'll be something to tell when you get home, that's for sure whether you make it or you don't."

"And what do you do, Mr. Peterson?"

"Well, I am recently retired, but I spent most of my days on the ocean studying the marine life around the coasts of Australia—that's where my main interests lied, in sharks. And where else does one wish to study sharks than on the coasts of Australia?"

"I could name many places, Mr. Peterson." He snorted and waved her off with a smile. "But, I suppose you're right. Australia would have been a good place to start."

"I studied there for years before moving to teach at a college in New Hampshire." He smiled and his eyes dulled as if he were back in the classroom at that moment teaching the masses about all the things he knew and had experienced. "But I never could quite get the itch of my pants, so I went back to field study and stayed there until I retired."

"And now you're here ready to study once again."

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," he said with a grin. His cane tapped against the floor as they waited for their rooms to be assigned.

Getting used to the schedule was difficult. Not only was she experiencing jet lag, but the odd hours that everyone around the base kept was draining and awkward for her poor body. Peterson didn't fare any better and was a grumbling mess when they were called for dinner hours after they had unpacked. He hobbled along beside her with his cane tack tack tacking on the tile flooring as they made their slow trek towards the cafeteria.

It looked a lot like a high school lunch room. There were long lunch tables placed all over the room with some smaller round tables placed along the walls. Soldiers sat with their backs ramrod straight as they ate their dinner. Christina thought that Ms. Bitters would approve of such posture and was immediately thankful that the woman was not here to force said posture upon herself.

She turned around to see if Peterson needed any help when she collided with someone. A hard chest was slammed into her face and Christina instantly back peddled rubbing her face as she did so. When she heard no apology or an excuse me, she looked up and was startled by the imposing figure that had rammed into her. A man—no woman had was entirely boobless and this guy didn't have them—stood dripped in black, she wanted to call it spandex but it didn't quite look like it, cloth and wore a helmet over the top of his head with a ribbed visor going across the front. No human skin showed through and Christina was almost sure he was a robot. In fact, she was 99% sure he was a robot.

She fidgeted in place, expecting him to apologize, but he didn't. He stared down at her with that intimidating visor, and she wondered if he expected _her_ to apologize. That just wasn't going to happen. There wasn't a snowball's chance in hell that it was happening.

Christina didn't like being told what to do and few people—Ms. Bitters and her father—got away with doing so. She placed her hands on her hips and cocked one of them out. It was her mother's signature stance, when she had had the strenght to walk around and become a bit fiesty, and Christina enjoyed using it. It made her feel like her mother's child instead of like Ms. Bitters. Christina hadn't quite gotten her mother's facial expressions down pat, but she was getting there.

She lifted an eyebrow, trying to intimidate him with her feminism. Nothing. The man didn't move and continued to stare her down as if by intimidating her he would get her to apologize or move. Christina frowned and did neither.

"Ms. Christina the lines over here," was the call from Peterson and her frown deepened. She was torn between remaining obstinate and ornery or getting in line before anyone else could beat her to the food; she was starving. In the end, as it often did, her stomach won, and she gave the oddly dressed man a snort and turned abruptly on her heels before jogging up to Peterson who was holding a spot in line for her with his cane.

Next time she wouldn't be so hungry and that asshole wouldn't push her around.

_A/N: It's been a while and I do so apologize! Hopefully it won't take so long next time for such a short chapter, but had to stop it here for plot purposes! (obviously) Let me know what you think!_

_~LadyB_

**_Edited: 4/18/13_**


	3. Chapter 3

_The Tank_

The room was small. Terribly small, as if she were sitting in a closet. The walls were white. She wrinkled her nose in distaste. The whole place smelled like ammonia. It made her want to gag but she held in the reflex with as much effort as she could muster. The man across from her gave what he must have thought was a comforting smile, but it really just made him look constipated in her honest opinion. He set a few papers out in front of him and then set a recorder at the corner of the desk and clicked it on. He looked up at her while he scooted his chair further in. The table was so small their knees were almost touching.

"Can you tell me your name, please, Ma'am?" His voice was soft and low as if she were a frightened, feral animal that he was trying to coax from hiding. It made her feel stupid.

"Christina," she answered. Before anyone could begin testing so that they could compete for the job position, they all had to do a psyche evaluation. Any who failed to pass said test was to be sent home immediately. Christina had waited two hours for her turn, watching others go ahead of her with an air of confidence. She wasn't that confident. Not that she considered herself crazy or unstable, but she had never taken a psyche evaluation before and was unsure how the procedure would go. Now she sat with her hands in her lap across from the man who was evaluating her. Christina felt terribly small within the small room.

He didn't ask for her last name, which was good because she didn't want to receive any more weird looks about it. Some days she found herself driving to the courthouse to go get it changed, but she could never make it all the way. She couldn't lose another piece of her father no matter how ridiculous it was.

"And how old are you?"

Christina wanted to say something snarky, but she couldn't get herself to do so. The room was just too small and it was all she could do to just remain calm. The walls were not closing in on her. "Thirty." God, was she really thirty? That wasn't as old as it seemed to her, right?

"Date of birth?" He didn't look at her this time, too busy scratching away at the papers in front of him with his pen.

"3/25/83." His pen scratched away terribly loud in the silence and it made the room that much smaller. She wanted to stab him with that damn pen. Right in the jugular where it would count. That would definitely cause her to fail the psyche exam and send her to jail.

"All right, Ms. Christina," he looked up and smiled at her. She resisted the urge to flip him off for looking so condescending. "Tell me about your family." He folded his hands together and rested his elbows on the table, looking at her, studying her.

She cleared her throat, "What about them?" Christina didn't enjoy talking about her family. While she loved them, she _had_ to love them, she was never very close to them. Her father, sure, but he was long since dead. And her mother? Well, she didn't see her much anymore. They talked on the phone some.

"What are they like?"

She thought for a moment. What were they like? She should know, shouldn't she? "Loud," she said to him. "They are very loud and full of energy."

"You must enjoy being a part of that," he said.

Christina frowned, "When I see them I do."

His gaze cut through her, piercing her own eyes with his icy blue ones. His smile never left his face giving him the crazy look of a tormented soul. Or was that just her own reflection? "You don't see much of your family anymore?"

"Not since my father died." Christina inhaled deeply and closed her eyes. She tried to imagine her father's face. Dark complexion, with beautiful green eyes she didn't inherit. "My mother calls often, but we don't see each other like we used to." She cleared her throat again. It seemed to be forming an ever growing lump that settled uncomfortably just passed her tonsils. "It's mostly my fault."

"How so?"

She glanced down at her hands, "I'm very—or, well, I was very busy with my job." This was a lie. She often wished she could run home to her mother's house and embrace them all and never let go. But she couldn't. And she didn't know why.

"I see," he scribbled something down. "Is there any strain in your family? Disputes or physical fights?"

"No," she answered quickly. "No more than any other family I suppose."

He held her gaze for a moment before widening his smile, "Of course. Now, do you have any physical ailments or mental ones that should be recorded for us?"

"No, sir."

His eyes crinkled from the force of his large smile and he continued much to Christina's distaste for it all. But she tried to focus on his questions because if she did, then the room wouldn't get any smaller.

Peterson waited for her in the hall, leaning against a wall for support while his cane was gripped with both his hands. He looked very regal, a taller and slimmer Sean Connery but with the same gentlemen like appearance. Christina gave him an awkward smile that showed her discomfort with the evaluation she went through and of her gratitude for being out of the small enclosure.

"I'd bet it didn't go as bad as you think it did." Peterson said with an encouraging smile. Christina merely gave a groan. "I'm sure it was fine." He gave her a pat on the back, "Much better than mine was, I assure you."

Christina doubted it but was grateful for his reassurance anyway. She wouldn't pass the psyche exam. Not with what she was sure they already knew and what she had omitted. She might as well pack up now and wait for her name to be announced like a naughty child being sent to the principal's office—she'd even have to do the walk of shame.

"You don't seem terribly confident, but no matter." He winked at her, "I assure you, Ms. Christina, that you did indeed pass."

"Oh, so you can assure me, yeah?" Christian asked with a roll of her eyes.

He straightened, "Of course, I have incredible foresight." He smiled which crinkled his blue eyes. "Now, shall we head off for lunch?" He check his watch, "A late lunch, but lunch all the same."

They chose a table off to the side that didn't have any other occupants and sat contemplating their meals. Peterson was obviously used to finer delicacy as Christina could tell from the way his nose had wrinkled when food was being ladled onto his tray. He hadn't said anything, but she could tell he was biting his tongue the same way he had when they had first eaten together.

Peterson poked at the chicken on his plate, "I don't think this is cooked all the way." He pressed his fork down on the chicken breast. He shot Christina a look, "Do you think if I gave them a good sum of money that they would use it on a better quality of food? Or better cooks?"

Christina chuckled with a mouthful of chicken (which didn't taste that bad to her). She swallowed the lump. "I doubt it. This is the government we're talking about."

He frowned, "True." He ignored everything other than the salad that he had gotten and began to nibble at it with an air of aristocracy. "Tell me your favorite species of shark and explain your reasoning behind said opinion."

Christina thought for a moment before asking, "Do extinct species count?"

Peterson laughed, "I know where you're going with this, so no they don't."

She shoveled food into her mouth while she mulled it over. She didn't want to come off as common, but her favorite species that wasn't extinct was pretty well known. "Probably the Carcharadon Carcharias."

"The Great White," Peterson said with a smile. "A very well known and terrifying species of shark." He laughed at her flush of embarrassment, "No need to feel self-conscious of your choice. Defend it." He motioned for her to begin speaking while he began to eat again.

She drummed her fingers along the table, "Well, Great Whites give birth Aplecental Viviparity, which means that they are in an egg but it's on the inside of the mother. There's no placenta. So while inside this egg they have to eat unfertilized eggs and their siblings to survive." Christina smiled widely, "Meaning before they're even out into the ocean, before they're even born, they're killers." She usually described this scene to her friends during their lunches so that she could watch them push their plates away and offer it to her instead, their stomachs to upset at the violent image to even think about eating. But her new friend opposite of her did nothing of the sort.

He nodded at her and so she went on, "As for senses, the Great White can smell one drop of blood in twenty-five gallons of water and can hear, as it's rumored but not scientifically tested I don't believe, as far as 825 feet away. This animal is a hunting machine being the largest and most deadly out of all his shark brothers. Thus making it the top shark pick."

Peterson finished off his salad with a hum as if this was something he hadn't already known before commenting. "The Great White is a thing of beauty. A deadly creature from the deep, but my fascination has always been in Bull Sharks."

"Bull sharks?" Assholes of the water are what they were.

He laughed, "Oh, yes. While the bull shark fails to impress with its length, it surely makes up for it in thickness. Very rounded, not as lean and pretty as other sharks can be." He pushed his tray away, the meal hardly touched. "But the bull shark is aggressive. An eater of anything and the most common to attack humans. While Great Whites attack humans thinking they're a fat seal, and most of the time realize their mistake and leave after a bite or a limb has been removed, the Bull Shark isn't like that." He gave a wry smile, "it doesn't matter whether you're fat or thin, human or fish; it will eat and attack anything."

"An interesting choice for you, Peterson." She stabbed her empty tray. "I didn't peg you for an aggressive man."

Peterson made to answer when Christina looked past him and then stood abruptly. He stared at her in confusion finding it rude that she wasn't paying attention. "It's that unapologizing asshole!" She said, pointing to someone that Peterson couldn't see. The older man turned in his seat and tried to pin point the offender Christina was talking about.

"Which one?" He asked scanning the crowd. He couldn't quite follow her hand.

"The black guy," she answered.

Peterson, thinking she was talking about the man's race, looked again for the offender. "The one with the cigarette?" Noticing the young African American man with a lit cig in his mouth and a newspaper in his hands.

"No. The guy dressed in black," she said. Christina looked back down at him, "Stay here, I'll be right back. That idiot's going to apologize for the other day." She left him before he could say anything to stop her. He looked at the man encased in a black suit of armor with duel swords on his back and immediately felt a sense of dread rise within him. This was _not_ someone you wanted to make an enemy out of.

He would have stopped her, he could still stop her if he shouted out, but Peterson sat at their table and turned to watch the inevitable conflict that his new found acquaintance was bound to stir up. He placed both hands atop the metal of his cane's handle, the statue of a wolf head, and watched the woman descend upon the group of people that hovered over another table. Her eyes dead set on the one dressed in black.

Christina began to approach the group that held the man clad in black and a helmet with growing agitation. She didn't _want_ to start a fight; she wasn't that good of a fighter, and she doubted she would last long in a fight with a soldier. She just wanted him to apologize. Christina got close to the group and reached out to grab the man's shoulder, they were about the same height with him having maybe half an inch over her.

She barely touched him when the man, faster than she could even think possible, gripped her hand and twisted it with a flick of his wrist. She heard the crack, felt the pain, and screamed. The man let go of her in shock and she immediately cradled her wrist to her chest.

"You son of a bitch!" She shouted at him. She took her wounded right hand and brought her left to inspect it. Broken. "You broke my damn wrist!"

By now everyone was watching them. His group had come closer to look from behind him while the man stood motionless. Christina vaguely heard the tap tap tap of Peterson's cane in her anger. "How the hell am I supposed to write, I've got to have a damn cast placed on." She didn't usually enjoy cursing. It only really happened in bouts of anger and pain that she really let the foul words fly from her mouth. If Ms. Bitters could hear her now, she'd have a heart attack. "How am I supposed to swim or play jump rope," the pain, the aching throb, was getting to her and she began to shout nonsense. "I can't teach my kids to play the piano because Joe asshole here broke my damn wrist."

Peterson came up and placed a hand on her shoulder, "Ms. Christina are you—?"

She shoved her wounded wrist into his face and he back peddled just a bit. "This asshole just twisted my wristed like a damn coke cap," she hissed in pain when Peterson began to probe at the swelling wrist. "How do people even get your attention? They can't! You're too busy breaking their wrists."

A woman from his group, a red head, came up with a bag of ice and pressed it to Christina's throbbing wound. "You shouldn't have come up from behind or at least have said something as you approached."

Christina ignored her, "I'm going to beat the hell out of him once I have cast on." She turned to the silent man who stood ramrod straight and stared at her through his visor. "I'm just going to beat it over your unapologizing head again and again until you fall unconscious." He still said nothing, "What? You still won't apologize? Not even for breaking my wrist?"

Another from his group spoke up, "He doesn't speak, ma'am."

"Is he mute?" Christina asked angrily not bothering to look at the man. She was still staring at the black clad soldier who stared right back.

"Well, no," the man answered.

"Then he can apologize for breaking my wrist. God damn asshole." She winced in pain again. "You better hope this doesn't send me home."

* * *

The medical staff had assured her that she would be perfectly fine, and Christina had been told by one of people in charge of all the of the scientist and marine specialists that they would not be sending her home. It would cripple her, they told her seriously, when she would be required to do activities involving the tests and, if she made it, the actual project.

She had nodded and allowed the doctor to put an odd cast onto her forearm, thicker around the wrist and then following the shape of her arm. Christina hadn't ever seen one like it before and when she asked, the doctor merely said it was a special type and that it was water proof.

When they had asked how it happened and she had informed them of their psycho Joe running around snapping people's wrists, they hadn't said much. One man wrote it down, or he may have pretended to write it down, and then gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. No one had apologized, accept the doctor, for her injury.

"It must be a military thing to not offer apologies," Christina said to Peterson once they were in the confines of their room. She was positive it was bugged (isn't that what the government did?), but she didn't care.

"Just be thankful they didn't send you home, dear." He sat on his bed reading a book that Christina couldn't identify. "You could very well have been on a plane out of here and back to your old job."

She sighed heavily, "I know." Laying back in her bed she closed her eyes while her right arm rested awkwardly at her side. "I know."

* * *

Brian was the feeder of the creature they kept in the tank. An enormous swimming pool three hundred feet deep and larger than any lake he'd ever seen before. The tank housed the beast they had captured.

It was a large animal, a shark, but not one he'd ever seen before. It looked like a Great White, but, and he had even researched it, it was far too large to be a Great White. But Brian didn't know sharks; Brian was just the animal's feeder.

In his hand was a bucket of seal blood. Thick and red, it sloshed over the sides as he walked towards the edge of the tank. He turned back to his buddies and had them ready the crane that held the animal's dinner. A large orca bucked on the plastic that held it suspended over the beast's watery hell. Brian held up his hand and the crane stopped right above the tank not too far from the edge. He didn't dare touch the water, standing a good foot away from the edge before dumping the red blood over the edge and into the water. From above, the orca gave a cry and Brian wondered if it saw the beast lurking under there and knew that its own death was near.

"Okay boys, ease 'er down." The crane began to descend slowly down. Once the plastic was completely submerged, the claws that gripped the animal were released and the orca began to swim away from its captor.

This was always Brian's favorite part. Not that he'd ever tell the others, they'd think it was too weird. They didn't like to watch the show. Brian waved them off and told them he had to clean up the rest of the blood before he could leave. Once they were gone, he turned on all the lights and some of the ones underwater too. He then climbed up onto the small observatory tower that stood above the tank, sat on the edge, and looked down at the water.

Brian squinted his eyes and tried to make out the beast and its prey. Further along he spotted the orca swimming anxiously back and forth and then diving under before resurfacing again. Still alive, odd. The beast usually got them by now. He tried to find the big animal but the water was so deep and the lights only went down so far that he couldn't make it out.

Disappointed, he stood and leaned over the railing of the observation tower trying to get a better view. The lights all went out, and in his confusion Brian fell over the railing and into the pool below. He was surrounded by water and darkness and he began to panic. Not because of the beast that was lurking somewhere in the deep, but because he couldn't find the surface. He kicked and he paddled until, finally, he broke the surface and gasped for air.

He treaded the deep water and looked for where the edge was supposed to be, but he couldn't make it out. Everything was black. From the back of the tank he heard the orca cry out again and then splash underwater. He had to get out. That thing could find him.

Brian picked a direction at random hoping it was the right way and began to kick and paddle. But after five minutes he realized that he had gone further into the tank. He gave a curse before picking another way. He was about to start up again when something brushed his leg. Brian gave a shout, a choking scream before he kicked at the thing that brushed against him.

The orca gave a startled cry before leaving him quickly, splashing away from him. Brian wondered if it had been trying to help, but ignored the thought. It was just a dumb animal. To his left he heard the click of heels against the tiled edge of the tank.

Oh thank God, he thought. "Hey! Hey, help me." He shouted, "I fell in and now I can't see. Please turn on the lights!" But the person said nothing. Brian was about to shout out again when something brushed his leg. Thinking it was the orca, he gave it a kick hoping it would just leave him alone.

There was a rapid movement; he could feel something large near the surface, before it sank deeper. Brian panicked and started swimming as fast as he could towards the direction he had heard the click of heels coming from. He didn't make it a few feet before he was enshrouded in darkness.

The beast had swallowed him whole.

* * *

**_A/N: I know what you're thinking. About time! Sorry for the long wait._**

**_Thanks to all those reviewers. And to those who don't:_**

**_Y U No Review for LadyB?_**

**_;) Thanks to everyone. Hope you enjoyed it. The next chapter will have a bit more action in it._**


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